by Carsen Taite
“Maybe this is a little presumptive on my part, but did you happen to see any of the press after Addison and Julia’s wedding?”
Meredith looked puzzled. “Yes. Anything in particular?”
“Hannah has a penchant for reading the local gossip columns, and she pointed out the ton of speculation about who the stranger was on Senator Mitchell’s arm at the wedding, down to what brand I was wearing.”
“That’s pretty normal.”
“Maybe in your world, but not in mine.” Stevie waved her hand. “Also not normal, having a driver pick me up for dates, getting in the back door at restaurants, and attending weddings of famous people.”
“Oh, come on. A driver is necessary for me or I’d never get anything done. I work while Erica drives. As for tonight, I’ve known Ellie most of my life, and while they may be famous to other people, Addison and Julia are old friends.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Which is?”
“Normal is relative.”
Stevie took a breath while she gathered her thoughts. Her gut reaction to Meredith’s announcement was visceral, but she did have valid reasons for not wanting to be part of the circus, and she felt like she owed it to Meredith to share where she was coming from. “It might be normal for you to have all these things, know all these people. I like to think I could get used to all that, but everything about your life is about to be scrutinized. You’re already the subject of half the stories above the fold, and it’s only going to get worse.”
“I’ve been preparing for this my entire life. I have nothing to hide and I can handle the scrutiny.”
“Well, I can’t.” There. She’d said it, and though she was certain it was true, she felt a twinge of regret the moment she’d spoken the words out loud because they could only mean one thing.
“Do you have something to hide?”
“What?” Stevie shook her head. “No, not at all. I guess I should’ve said I don’t want to handle the scrutiny. I’ve seen, up close and personal, the damage that comes from too much focus from the media and their insatiable desire to fill a twenty-four-hour news cycle. I have a quiet life, but it’s a life I’ve worked hard to earn and it’s my own. Your life is about to be owned by everyone but you. I wish you well, but I can’t be a part of it.”
“We’ve barely gotten to know each other,” Meredith protested.
“Perfect timing then.” Stevie smiled to soften the harshness of her words. “Let’s enjoy this meal before your world tilts on its axis.” She raised her glass. “Friends?”
“Do you mean that? I do enjoy talking to you. Not many people in my sphere challenge me like you do.”
Stevie considered. She’d tossed out the word as a way of putting some closure on whatever this was between them, but as she rolled the concept of friendship around in her head, she couldn’t see the downside. “Yes, I mean it.”
Meredith hesitated for a moment, but then lifted her drink. “To friendship.”
They spent the next hour stuffing themselves with barbecue and the banana cream pie that Ellie insisted they try. Caught up in conversation, Stevie experienced moments where she forgot she was supposed to maintain distance, and questioned the boundaries between friendship and something more, but when it was finally time to leave, she drew a hard line and insisted on finding her own way home.
“This is silly,” Meredith said as they walked back down the hall Ellie had led them through when they’d arrived. “Erica can drop you off just as easily as a cab.”
“I’m perfectly capable of getting home on my own. Besides, I’m heading the opposite direction.”
Meredith looked like she was going to protest further, and Stevie placed a finger across her lips, which she instantly realized was a very bad idea. Just the touch of Meredith’s lips against her skin sent a surge of heat through her and she quickly drew away. “Sorry. I should go.”
“You don’t have to.” Meredith’s eyes telegraphed desire.
“I would eventually, and it’s best if I just do it now.” She paused for a moment to gather her resolve. “You know I’m right.” Stevie pushed through the door before Meredith could say another word. She spotted Erica in the town car a few feet away, but kept walking, not paying attention to where she was headed. Down the street. Turn. Down another block. Turn. Every step a feeble attempt to put some distance between her and a life that wasn’t meant for her. The farther away she got the easier it was to acknowledge that she’d made the right decision. So why did she feel so empty inside?
Chapter Seven
Two weeks later. New York City.
“And you have my word I will never forget the promises I made when I first entered public office. To be accountable. To be honest. To put the needs of you and our country above my own personal gain. I want to take the ideals that fueled my very first campaign—prosperity and well-being for all—to the entire nation, and to that end I ask you to support me in my efforts, because today I am announcing my candidacy for president of the United States of America.”
Meredith looked out on the crowd, fixing on a few familiar faces, but careful to also connect with the few strangers in the mix and offer them what she hoped was a friendly, winning smile. It was difficult to muster any emotion at all since she was exhausted. The past couple of weeks had been a whirlwind of decision-making. Once she’d elected to enter the race, there were a thousand choices to make and arrangements to put in place. Who would be her campaign manager? Where would she announce? She’d written the speech herself, a task she’d always assumed, but she knew she would have to start handing over duties now as competing factions pulled at her time, energy, and attention.
“Are you ready?” Jen glanced at her watch. “You need to leave in about five minutes to make it to the next stop. I need to have a quick one-on-one with the mayor’s chief of staff, and then I’ll meet you there.”
Meredith sighed, wishing she had a bit more time to let the gravity of what she’d just done sink in, but Jen was right, they had to move quickly to build on the momentum of today’s announcement. They had a full slate of appearances today before she flew to Maryland in the morning for Thanksgiving dinner with their parents, but she had something else in mind first. “I’m ready, but I scheduled a quick meeting and I want you to take it with me.”
“Now?”
“Yes. It won’t take long.” Meredith could sense Jen’s resistance, so she pushed on. “I promise. Oh, and after lunch tomorrow, I’m taking the rest of the day off. You can have me back on Friday. Deal?”
Jen looked puzzled, like she wasn’t sure if she was joking around. “I mean it. I need a day, make that half a day, just for me time before we dive into this race full force. And it’s Thanksgiving for crying out loud.” She injected a pleading tone. “After the holiday’s over, you and I both know I’ll have absolutely no control over my schedule.”
Jen’s expression softened. “Okay, I guess one day isn’t going to do any harm this early on. Now, what’s this important meeting you scheduled all on your own?”
“Come on.” Meredith led the way to a small conference room connected to the ballroom where she’d just given her speech. She’d wanted to make her official announcement outside, but a heavy thunderstorm had caused them to shift everything inside at the last minute. She paused at the door.
“What is it?” Jen asked.
“Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”
Jen cocked her head, but before she could respond, Meredith opened the door and led them both inside where a well-dressed, lanky man stood to greet them.
Meredith shook his hand and motioned to Jen. “Jen, I’d like you to meet Gordon Hewitt. He and I have been talking about having his team join the campaign.” She braced for Jen’s reaction. Gordon Hewitt was a former associate of Julia Scott and had worked with Julia to get President Garrett elected twice. When Julia had taken the job as Garrett’s chief of Staff, Gordon had taken over her firm and now was the go-to campa
ign manager for the most successful politicians.
Jen paused before offering her hand. “Everyone knows who Gordon Hewitt is, but I don’t believe we’ve ever crossed paths. Nice to meet you.”
“And you,” he said. “Looks like we’ll be working together plenty over the next year.”
Meredith winced, knowing Jen would quickly realize she and Gordon had passed the talking about it stage. Deciding to go all in, she said, “Gordon and I still have a few details to work out, but I’d like him to start working with us right after the holiday.”
“Really? We’ve barely had time to establish a strategy,” Jen said. “Wouldn’t his team be more effective if we’ve already decided on a direction and best use of resources?”
“Actually,” Gordon said, “I’ve been developing some information on that front.” He pulled a folder out of his briefcase. “My numbers say we should go with a targeted geographical demographic rather than a fifty-state strategy.”
“We have numbers too,” Jen said, her tone icy. “You may not be aware, but our brother Michael runs one of the top analytics firms in the country.”
“Great. Always good to have more than one angle for good perspective.”
Meredith watched the back-and-forth, pleased to see Gordon wasn’t backing down. He’d need to keep his cool and stand his ground if he was going to work with Jen, and she was determined to add him to the team. Julia had made the introduction a week ago, and after several meetings with Gordon, Meredith was convinced his national experience was vital to her success. After watching a few more rounds of them sparring, Meredith pointed at her watch. “We better get going.”
Jen barely waited until they were out the door before she started in. “You’ve already hired him, haven’t you?”
“Pending a few details that need to be ironed out. I’ll leave those to you. Unless you think you can’t work together.” Meredith left silent which of them she would choose if Jen refused to accept Gordon onto the team, but she could tell Jen got the message.
“Can we at least revisit the decision to hire Hewitt’s firm? We have the resources to handle your campaign on our own.”
Meredith heard the unspoken “without bringing in outsiders” because Jen and Michael had pointed out numerous times over the past two weeks that they and the rest of the family circle could handle the work on their own. “I’m done talking about it. I’m going to need you for many things. No one is a better taskmaster, no one is more loyal, and there is no one I trust more than you. But I need someone completely objective to make the tough calls and tell me the raw facts when it comes to where things stand in this campaign. Let someone else get down and dirty with the campaign politics. Trust me, when we get to the White House, you’ll be much more effective as my chief of staff if you don’t have a ton of political fallout to have to make up for. And Gordon promised me they would consult with Michael for analytical data.”
“I know, but—”
“You have to trust me on this.” Meredith had made up her mind and she wasn’t changing it. “I love you and I think you can do anything, but I need you to be my chief of staff and my sister more than I need you to run this circus. Got it?”
“Okay,” Jen said. “But Gordon’s going to want direct access.”
“And he’ll get it, but you’ll be included in all the big decisions. I promise.” Meredith stared her down until she was satisfied she’d made her point. She knew juggling Jen’s well-intentioned bossiness combined with Gordon Hewitt’s reputation for being a control freak was going to be a challenge, but she was convinced it was necessary to balance her family’s political dominance with a fresh voice, someone who would be objective. Gordon had a reputation for speaking truth to power, and he wasn’t one to take on a race he didn’t think he could win. This would be his first solo presidential campaign, and Meredith figured she’d hear an earful from her father at dinner tomorrow about how if she was going to go outside the family, she should at least pick someone with a higher national profile. She was prepared to tell her family that, bottom line, she was the boss, and if Julia Scott thought Gordon was the guy, she was convinced he was the right choice for her.
On the way to the next stop, Meredith skimmed the newspapers the driver had left in the back seat, enjoying the tactile feel of the paper in her hands, and the sound of the paper crinkling as she folded pages to access the rest of the headline stories—a refreshing break from endlessly scrolling with her thumbs to get to the end. She set aside the New York Times and picked up the Washington Post. Yesterday’s vote on the immigration bill was one of the featured stories, and she devoured the paragraphs above the fold and then turned to the back pages to catch the rest, but before she could dive back into the immigration story, something else distracted her.
A trial date has been set for William Barkley, the IT consultant with Folsom Enterprises who gave top secret information to several news outlets. Protestors in support of Barkley gathered outside the Prettyman Courthouse today, chanting about the First Amendment and oppressive government. Barkley’s attorney, public defender Stevie Palmer, declined to discuss the case, but did say that her client appreciated all the people who’d gathered to support him. She said that she expected the public to be surprised by what they learned once Mr. Barkley received his day in court.
Meredith read the paragraph several times. She’d heard about the case when Barkley was arrested—everyone had. Espionage was a hot button issue right now, and her colleagues had all discussed how much they’d like to see Barkley be made an example. Meredith pulled up the calendar app on her phone and counted backward. Stevie must’ve drawn this case right around the time she testified before the Senate committee. Right around the time they’d met. Was this why Stevie seemed so leery of the press?
No, that didn’t make sense. Most of the press celebrated Barkley’s actions as patriotic and fully supported by the First Amendment. No, it had been a run-in with a reporter on a different case—the Wallace case—that had made such a negative impression on Stevie. Meredith had seen the reference on the report Jen had prepared on Stevie’s background, but she hadn’t dwelled on the details.
Meredith reached for her phone and Googled Stevie’s name along with the name Wallace, completely unprepared for the flood of references that loaded onto the screen.
Assassin Donald Wallace and his sixteen-year-old son were arraigned yesterday in Federal District Judge Reinhardt’s court. The case is reminiscent of the 2002 DC sniper case, and tensions in the community have run high. Wallace’s son’s attorney, public defender Stevie Palmer, vows that evidence will show he was a victim of his father’s abuse as well as a developmental disability, and not at all culpable in the deaths of the seven coordinated sniper attacks that have terrorized the Maryland area for the past six months.
Meredith clicked on another link a bit farther down and read more about Stevie’s young client. Phrases like “awkward in school,” “slow,” and “viewed as weird by his classmates and teachers alike.” Ten clicks later, Meredith finally reached the article that told the end of Stevie’s client’s story.
Marshall Wallace was found dead in his cell at the juvenile detention center in Silver Spring, MD. Officials believed he hanged himself, but homicide had not been ruled out as of this publication. The public defender’s office issued no statement, but Wallace’s attorney Stevie Palmer said, “The system had failed my client. I sincerely regret that he will never have the opportunity to be vindicated.” She went on to say that the spectacle of coverage surrounding this case was directly responsible for his death.
Meredith reread the quote from Stevie several times, and realization dawned. She remembered the press coverage well. Both the father and son were vilified in the press, and horrible things were said across all media about the son. Instinctively, Meredith reached for her phone and started punching numbers, but she stopped before the call could go through. She hadn’t spoken to Stevie since dinner at Ellie’s two weeks ago, and she feared their
promise to be friends had been nothing more than a nicety, one of those things people say when they are parting because the truth—that they never plan to see each other again—is too harsh. She set the phone down and tapped her fingers on the papers in her lap.
“Oh, to hell with it,” she muttered and grabbed the phone again, dialing before she could change her mind.
“Hello?”
The voice was female, but she was fairly sure it wasn’t Stevie. Meredith checked the number on the screen to be sure. “I’m trying to reach Stevie Palmer.”
“Senator Mitchell?”
Definitely not Stevie. Meredith cleared her throat and plunged ahead. “It’s Meredith. Who’s this?”
“Hannah. Hannah Bennett. We met at Stevie’s place and again at Quarry House.”
“I remember.”
“Great speech today. You’ve got my vote.”
“Thanks.” Meredith waited a couple of beats hoping for some intel about why Hannah was answering Stevie’s cell phone, but there was only silence. “Speaking of Stevie, I was trying to reach her. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”
“Uh…hang on a sec.”
Meredith heard the sound of Hannah speaking to someone else, but the words were too muffled to make out. She was about to give up on this impromptu mission when Hannah’s voice came back on the line.
“Sorry about that. We’re having lunch or trying to at least. I’m guarding the last open table in this joint, and she’s at the counter getting our food, but when I saw your name show up on the screen, well, I just had to answer.”
Meredith spent a few seconds trying to unravel what Hannah had just said and came to only one conclusion. “I get it—she’s busy. No worries and no need to tell her I called. I’ll give her a ring later.” Give her a ring? Damn, she sounded stupid. “Bye.”
“Wait!”
Meredith held the phone with her forefinger poised to disconnect the call. She should hang up. Calling was a bad idea and it had accomplished nothing. She needed to focus, and everything about Stevie Palmer was a distraction. Yet, she’d already called, so what was the harm in staying on the line? “Yes?”